Ellajane

-- This is a darker and more intense work than my earlier piece -- with thanks to my editorial helper ellaalltiedup.

She is nude, blindfolded, hands bound behind her back, a short chain linking the cuffs on her ankles, he is leading her like and unlike an animal or a slave. The leash is not attached by her collar though, rather to a harness that is of her imagination's own creation, it links her collar to her clamped nipples and clitoris, but most intrusively of all to a steel phallus inside her, her most intimate places empiriled, tormented and ignited. He does not speak and the covering of her eyes denies her sight, she knows what will happen should she dare to speak, to use her mouth for any purpose other than to serve. His feet move as silently as ever and so the only way she has of knowing where to follow is the leash...

Left and right drag her nipples and she moves instantly knowing the pain will simple grow should she fail to comply, down and her clitoris that is tortured, up and the nerve endings inside her pubic bone that are abused. She corrects her earlier thought, in her wildest imaginings she would not have thought of even an animal or a slave being led so or subject to control in this way, she is a plaything,

He can do anything with her and her in her dream-like state she knows he may take full advantage of that freedom, the light hearted playfulness that she loves about him is absent, as is her need for it her lust and fear leave no room for it.

She guesses she must be in his lounge when she feels the heat of the fire on her naked skin and her decides her guess it correct when she fees the cold of the stones before the hearth under her feet... the most wonderful combination. Despite the heat, she shivers and her insides clench for two contradictory reasons... she remembers previously hanging from the rings mounted in the ceiling above this very fire while he rotated her. She remembers him using his strong hands to run ice and chilled liqueur over her flawless pale skin to prevent her skin from burning while giving it no respite from the pain of the flame's heat. She remembers that pain being insufficient for either one of them, as he methodically tortured every inch of her, paying particular attention to the most sensitive parts of her body.

Even her depraved dream-self is grateful for her bonds, even though they are both humiliating and painful, they prevent her from seeking to run, losing rewards, and earning greater punishments. Her mind begins throwing up the many things she fears she may be punished for and in hope, those that may earn her a coveted reward, she has confessed all to him, however slight. Better to overconfess than suffer the consequences.

He has brought her to a halt, and now she knows that she is at the precise place she feared she was being taken to, placed her facing the fire's heat, "You know the rules." And she does, she may not cum, she may not beg for release or for the end to her torments but that does not mean he cannot force her to do these things, she knows that he may place impossible demands on her body and that her only defence is to give herself over fully, again her body clenches against the rigid intruder and swells against the cruel clamps sending waves of pleasure and pain through her, a moan of many causes escapes her mouth and a tear is absorbed by the blindfold.

His hand twists in the harness and each clamp bites her more harshly while the intruder insider her body half lifts her to her toes by the inside of her pubic bone and now it is a sob that escapes as she struggles against the pain on the precipice of her forbidden release, she cannot see her face, but she knows that it is a perfect balance of suffering, need and submission and that the sight of her drive him onwards.

She can sense his mass as she quivers naked and barefoot, he seems to tower over her in her mind though she can see nothing, she resists the urge to bring her feet together to counter to upward pull, that to move towards his cruel hand to resist the tension the three clamps are applying to her. She knows that her obedience will force her to fail, that her perfect vulnerability will drive him to make her fail, this understanding too helps drive her body's submission to what his cruel harness is doing to it, her breath accellerates, she feels him apply a pulsing pressure milking her senses inside and out, as her knees weaken she feels him move closer to her left hand finds her firm, pert buttocks and its middle finger her anus, it takes a share if her weight as his right hand tightens, now she could not more towards it if she tried, draw backwards and forwards by her sphincter and her g spot and unbearable force drags at her nipples and clitoris, and though her legs and his hands hold her weight she falls, inwardly she falls in despair and ecstacy. Tears of shame and frustration flow and spasm after spasm flows through her, he holds her upright as long as her body can bear and then a moment longer then allows her to lean on him, lowers her tenderly to the stones) as her body shakes itself to stillness. He holds her, thick arms, strong hands, crisp cotton and soft wool against her nakedness and cold unforgiving stone beneath it, his lips graze her own as he gentles her. Perhaps no animal or slave was ever driven so cruelly low, but no princess was ever loved so.

The rough flag stones before the great fireplace in his sumptuous lounge, its almost more a great hall, in his beautiful home, that had seemed incongruous to her when first he brought her here, and mysterious when he had told her that he had had them fitted for a very specific reason but not quite yet found the way to make them works to his satisfaction. Not even in her most depraved thought until that time could she have hoped to unravel that mystery. Yet now, here she was and their purpose was so clear and so right and she lies, defeated in her pain and pleasure, how better to remind her of her true status, in the midst of luxury and beauty, she is a naked torture toy, a cum toy, a fuck toy, bound, cruelly and laid low on rough stones and as the waves of her orgasm still sweep through her it is here that she belongs.

He brushes her ringlets from the alabaster skin of her face, "Be ready." His voice is kind, and she knows he is about to remove the clamps that torture and elevate her, shifts despite her knowledge and her fear to ease his task. She offers herself to the pain that is to come willingly, perhaps even eagerly, and as she does so, her insides clench at the intrusion once more. Her nipples are first, and suddenly, the pain sears through her and triggers bolts inside her. She sobs and yet, her lips yearn to kiss him. She knows his hands on her breasts will help ease her pain in the end, but the agony at first is such that a tear escapes her blindfold as he bows to kiss her waiting mouth and glistening lips. By the time his head draws away, their tender flesh is filled with wonder, and she presses them towards him unconsciously.

He looks down at her, the blindfolded, tear streaked beauty of her face, the curves of her breasts reaching towards him from her slim frame, she is clad only in slim straps and chains of the harness that she had meekly allowed him to bind her in and the bonds on her wrists and ankles, her slim legs make way for him as he moves to free her from the third clamp, though her face folds in fear as in her blindness she realises their intent. He longs to drink in the new waves of her pain and pleasure that will come when he does yet does not rush himself in any way. He waits until the warmth of his arms and the heat of the fire have eased the new quaking in her limbs, but nothing can quite disguise or ease away the dread in her breathing.

He knows she understands that this will be yet more painful; with a surgeon's surity he eases the jaws that trap the tiny morsel of her flesh, for a moment they cling and in that moment her cry of anguish begins, and then they are gone yet pain rages through her for moments more and she curls against him for comfort, though it is he who is her tormentor, his hand returns, gentling as it has before with consumate skill and as he does waves of pleasure crash through the wall of her suffering, he senses her body's pulsing against the steel intruder that his the last remaining one of the four brutal guides by which he has led her to this place and this moment, to this state of being so completely his.

In her blind bubble of pain and pleasure, fear and belonging she offers up a silent prayer that he will not force her into another unauthorised orgasm while her treacherous body offers up one to the contrary as she struggles not to cum, she knows how easily he could do so with his strong, skillful hands, her subconscious unhelpfully chimes in with memories of his talented tongue and his cock, those of his cock in her anus while steel presses against her g spot are especially vivid. She hovers on the edge, holds herself from falling with every shred of her will battling her body even more than his caresses, her bonds help as she allows herself to strain against the leather and steel.

As she writhes and moans a sheen of perspiration covers her fair skin and it gleams silver and as her hair glows gold in the fire's light, finally her mouth opens in surrender, one more touch and she would once again be wracked with forbidden bliss, and again he knows that this is a moment with his tiny, miraculous woman that he will carry with him always.

Just at this moment when she can cling on no longer he relents, though his heart feels a stab of loss at doing so, for her pleasure even more that her pain holds him in thrall, she has already earned as many punishments as her delicate skin and innocent soul can bear, a groan of relief and despair escapes her delicate lips and he allows himself to kiss her briefly. As he does so his fingers work at the locks on her collar and belt, ease them from her, she sighs into his mouth as she realises with regret what is to happen next, with continental slowness he draws the heavy steel from within her and its solid weight is replaced by an unbearable emptiness. His lips leave hers and she is even more bereft but her questing mouth finds the head of the steel intruder with its precious cargo of her own taste and she welcomes it as it slides into her once more, he lets her suckle on the glistening metal for a few precious seconds, relishing her abandonment and her indulgence before taking it away again and kissing her once more, this time the sweetness of her mouth is mixed with her other delicate taste and the harsher taste of steel.

She feels his hands at her ankles, and senses the chain between them being removed, then he lifts her with his easy strength and releases the link between her wrists before laying her down once more, her shoulders ache from their prologned confinement but she does not move to stretch out, instead she lies passively in the trance of his touch. Finally his deft fingers lift the blindfold from her eyes and though the fire's light is dim she finds herself blinking at the sight of Him with the reflected flames dancing a thousand colours in the depths of his hazel eyes. "Are you ready?" He asks in a voice so low and so deep that she barely hears but so intense that her bones feel each word.

And she is, through every fear, through panicky desire to hide or flee she is, he takes her hands and helps her to her feet in the most courteous of gestures. Once standing her eyes soak in his face, body, his hard features, broad shoulders, for her the heat of his lust and the ice of his will dominate any space he is in, next she registers that the contents of the coffee table, the long flogger with its soft leather falls that she both loves and hates, the sight tells her that her endurance will be tested, knowing that she is to receive both punishment and reward she knows the warm, sensuous touch of the soft falls, but also their weight, their sting and their thudding impact, the cumulative nature of their effect pealing away layers of resistance with each of which her sensitivity to both pleasure and pain grows, imparting layers and waves of heat, arousal and pain.

The ice and towels tell her she will be dangled before the flames again; his voice interrupts, "I would like you to select a second instrument for your punishment."

She wonders again at his cruelty wrapped in kindness, he makes her accomplice in her own torture, makes her mind and body contemplate and choose the nature of her pain and the manner of its engendering. She looks up to see that the hidden cabinets are open, awaiting her choice. Noone who did not know would guess that the magnificent oak panelled room, with its great fire-place (taller than herself), heavy classical looking leather furniture and aesoteric sound system was, in truth also a torture chamber. They would assume the hifi equipment was the reason for the soundproofing, that the only secret the heavy oak panels might be a home cinema system (and she knows there is one of those as well). However she, and her body, know, and her body and imagination respond to the hidden truths of this place whenever she approaches it or it enters her mind.

Despite his instruction her eye pauses on "The stool", to her mind (and loins) the most devilish of the many exotic pieces of furniture in here, she wonders how many of those who have been in this room sat on its plush leather have any idea that it hides the most exotic of toys and the most agonising of tortures, that if unfolded just so it reveals a sybian built into a bondage frame, when she first saw it she had initially joked that a girl did not need to be tied to such a thing, but she had learnt that with any sybian a girl's endurance could be tested, but with this sybian and the arts of its owner, with the cleverly added array of clamps and electrodes, with his hands and his cock free to use his captive in any way, any girl could be driven to the point of madness and kept there at his will.

A tear escapes her eye as her mind reaches for the mildest instrument in the cabinet and her hand clasps the cruelest, any tawse is cruel, but this one she knows is doubly so, thick layers of leather stitched around sprung steel, she well knows how its blows drive deeply into her, her mind wonders to herself why they have chosen but her body knows, even as it sheds a tear, she wishes his cruelty, the wetness on her cheek is mirrored elsewhere, her heart pounds and her body anticipates though it will scream and writhe.

She kneels to offer the instrument of her own torture up to him, head low, knees spread to offer her pussy, back arched to offer both her breasts and bum to him, to the heavy leather whip in her hands.

He looks down, and is pleased, she is a rare creature, so transparent in both her fear and in her lust, so candid, so responsive to his least touch or look, so natural and so trainable. He takes up the brutal thing, flexes it, though he knows it well, he knows each tool of pleasure and pain well, "Look up." he commands, and she does so, sees the approval in his face, sees the fire reflected in his eyes multiplied by a fire there, shudders with a mix of fear and exhilleration. "You have chosen well, but..." and her heart falls. His hand reaches out and takes her chin, it lifts with barely perceptible force and, as she has been trained to and as she feels as though his was born to she rises in one graceful motion. He leads her from the stone flags into the seating areas, towards on of the padded foot rests, "Kneel please." She melts inside when he phrases an order as a question so, and complies, "Bend please." And her body quivers internally, she hopes she knows why she is here though she fears it may be for the tawse not the swelling of his cock that fills the parts of her mind not drowning in her fear and arousal.

"Spread yourself with your hands." her minds eye sees her bent, arse high, legs spread, breasts bearing the weight of her torso, her head over the far side of the footstool, three entrances to her body wantonly available, naked but for the strong cuffs about her wrists and ankles. He eyes drink the sight in, no choreographer or artist could create so perfect a vision of submission, his need rises and yet he holds it in check.

He slides his thumb along her labia, presses its tip into her, fails to resist her muscles instinct to cling on to it as it slides in and out and then feels a sense of loss as it is withdrawn. It does not travel far however, it drags slowly over her sensitive perineum and Her sigh of regret becomes one of pleasure, which only rises as its wet pad presses against her anus. The intensity of her submissive feelings rises again as when he had fitted her into the cruel harness, the skin around her arse is so sensitive and so taboo that the two forces ally and carry her into sub-space, had he simple stayed playing with her offered rear she could have been content, but he had other plans and his touch leaves her before it can take her to her crest.

She waits, as is her lot, she waits for his attention and hopes for his desire. She feels his hands on her feels a soft touch against her labia, the silky surface slide up and down her wetness, gasps as it enters her, sighs as it is withdrawn, hopes that it will soon be replaced by the hardness of his cock. She feels his thumb against her anus again, it is slick (with lube?) feels him press its pad against her and feels its touch ignite her as it circles, she struggles to refrain from rocking against its touch.

The softness returns to her labia, is pushed insider her once again while she lies passive and available, her passivity an admission that body is not her own, that she acknowledges as much, her entrances her his not her own. It is withdrawn again and pressed against her anus, pressed firmly. The training he requires of her anus is such that she remains tight but accomodating, tight enough that entry by anything larger than a finger is painful at first, she struggles to prevent her muscles clenching and succeeds, just barely, despite a gasp of pain escaping her lips as he presses and twists the object into her. The pain passes as her sphinchter closes a little and it registers on her that this must be the butt plug from the coffee table. "Good girl." She hears him say, and then she feels the plug come to life, not just vibrating insider her but also moving against the two rings of muscle at its entrance, "Entrance she muses, I think of my bum as an entrance now." And she relishes the sense of shamefullness.

For his part his decision was simple, her choice of the tawse as well as his own of that particular whip meant that her body would soon be striped red with pain and though he loved it so he also loved the alabaster of her skin with its dusting of golden freckles, and he chose to use her while it was still so. He watches her body respond to the plugs stimulation, her breath her melting into the sounds of the fire and into herself, she would milk pleasure he chose to give her like the flightyest slut, though she would fight like a daemon in her efforts to not fall completely to it without his permission. She feels the muscles of her vagina pulse against nothing, as though her pussy was jealous of her arse, feels his thumb enter there and two of his fingers slip alongside her hood, lifting it, expose and surround her clitoris and she begins her struggle against the fall. He feels the plug working inside her with the knuckles of his thumb, and when he presses its pad against her g spot as his fingers work her clitoris he feels her response multiply, hears her breathing quicken and then halt, he makes a mental note to do this to at length her on a future occasion, no, more than one future occasion, as he backs off a little, he isn't ready for her to cum again just yet and her breathing resumes with a low whine of mixed frustration and relief.